The Last Elf of Lanis

by Hargan, K. J.

  “It’s plainly in your spirit,” the mage’s eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you happy to be home?”

  But before Alrhett could answer, Yulenth exclaimed.

  “The trees!” He cried. “They all have moss on one side. The shadier side. That must be north! To go south, we simply follow the trees!”

  “Amazing,” the mage said shaking his head, “how his mind takes everything apart. But that’s why you love him.” He said to Alrhett. “You’ve always loved him. Even long ago when he came to the court as an emissary from Glaf.”

  “How did you know that!?” Alrhett cried.

  “I’m old. I remember it,” he said.

  “This way!” Yulenth exclaimed. “I know this is the way to the river!”

  “Well,” said the Mage, “I’m going west. May haps we’ll see each other again,” the mage said to Yulenth, but not Alrhett.

  “Be strong,” he said to her. “Your people need your strength, now more than ever.”

  Then, the mage continued away on a different path, as Yulenth pulled a wondering Alrhett in the new direction he had found.

  As mid-day approached, Yulenth and Alrhett came upon an opening of brittle, dead bracken. As they made their way across the small meadow, nine startled crows burst up into the sky.

  “What was that all about?” Yulenth mused to himself.

  “They were saying something about-“ Alrhett stopped in mid-sentence as they came upon the fresh corpse of a dead man.

  His body was sprawled, cut several times and oozing fresh blood. The dead man was elegantly dressed in the clothing of a noble of the court of the Weald.

  “I know him,” Alrhett said in horror.

  “Here,” Yulenth said, quickly handing Alrhett his sword. “Let’s see if there is any life left in him.” Yulenth bent down to see if he could save the poor man.

  “It’s Argotine, a Lord of the Court,” Alrhett whispered.

  A loud crunching behind them made Alrhett jump. An armed noble with several guards quickly approached.

  “Stavolebe,” Alrhett breathed, recognizing the approaching noble dressed in the blue and green silks according to his rank.

  “Hold!” The noble cried. He looked down at the corpse, then at the sword in Alrhett’s hand. “So,” Stavolebe said with a strange, happy disgust. “Our queen has returned to us to kill the Lords of the Court.”

  “No,” Alrhett stammered.

  “Take them,” Stavolebe imperiously said. The guards advanced and wrenched the sword and spear from her. Then, the guards bound Alrhett and Yulenth’s hands, and marched them off to Rogar Li to stand trial.

  On the march, Stavolebe took the opportunity to torment Alrhett.

  “The old man died less than a year after you left,” he sneered at her. “You needn’t have fled, after all.”

  Alrhett looked straight ahead, and would not give him the satisfaction of an answer.

  “Was your daughter with you?” Stavolebe probed. “Did we leave her back there alone in the Weald? Garonds are venturing into the forests now. Imagine that. Shall I send one of my guards back to fetch her? Is that what you wish?”

  “I wish you’d shut your fly trap,” Yulenth mumbled.

  Stavolebe eyed Yulenth with a cruel desire.

  “Ah, yes. The Glaf ambassador,” the noble of the Weald said eyeing Yulenth.

  “Your country no longer exists to give you immunity.” With that Stavolebe struck old Yulenth hard in the stomach.

  “Stop that at once!” Alrhett cried. The guards instinctively came to a fearful halt and Stavolebe almost made to kneel before Alrhett, but caught himself and sneered.

  “You have no more authority, Queen of the Weald,” He laughed a little laugh to himself. “And your foul murder of the Lord Argotine will seal your fate forever.”

  Stavolebe aggressively waved at the guards and they resumed their march to Rogar Li in silence.

  As they tramped through the Weald, Yulenth saw hidden archers in treetops, and sentries, well-disguised, even among the red and brown falling, autumn leaves. With its dark, labyrinthine timbers and hidden pathways, any garond that forayed into the Weald would surely be dead in a matter of moments. It was no wonder the wealdkin had yet to be attacked by Deifol Hroth’s armies.

  Late in the day, the city of Rogar Li seemed to burst into view from its cover of the titanic elms and ancient oaks that enfolded it. Blending in with the most towering pines of all of Wealdland, Rogar Li was a terraced, wooden castle made right out of the forest. The houses and great halls in Rogar Li were planted over young trees when they were first built, and as the trees grew, they lifted the structures into the air with the strength of the tree, and the family. Walkways and ramps were built between the houses, so the lowest of structures interconnected to the loftiest, the high royal throne rooms, swaying at the treetops.

  Alrhett and Yulenth were taken to a jail on the ground level, and held for the night, to meet the Great Judge of the Weald in the morning.

  Word had spread through Rogar Li of Alrhett’s arrival, and the curious, the angry and the hopeful milled outside the jail all night.

  Alrhett and Yulenth silently held each other tight throughout that long and gloomy night.

  The next sunny and cold morning, Yulenth woke to find Alrhett softly whispering to three little sparrows perched on the windowsill of their jail cell. The sparrows listened intently, hopped and twitched with excitement, then in a blink, they were gone, flying out into the Weald.

  “What was that all about?” Yulenth sleepily asked.

  “In the winter the squirrel must search everywhere to survive,” Alrhett said with a worried sigh.

  “Oh,” Yulenth groaned, “your Weald adages drive me to distraction.”

  A guard brought them a meager meal. And, in the late morning they were escorted through Rogar Li to the Great Judge’s chamber.

  “Has anyone claimed the throne?” Yulenth asked one of the guards, as they ascended stairways and ramps to the higher parts of the city.

  “We’re not supposed to talk to you,” the guard sullenly answered.

  “No, all is in turmoil,” the other guard quickly answered. “Did you slay Lord Argotine?” He asked Alrhett with large, hurt eyes.

  “No,” she gently said to the guard, “and I do not ask you to blindly believe me.”

  “I thought you innocent the moment I heard the accusation,” the guard said with an angry pout.

  Throngs of people lined the walkways to see Alrhett and murmur amongst themselves. Alrhett held her head high.

  “Are the Lords of the Court still elected by the people?” Yulenth asked the sympathetic guard.

  “Yes, but there is awful strife between the Lords,” the guard said. “All claim the throne and Summeninquis, the Great Judge, has taken advantage of this strife to gather power unto himself.”

  “Well,” Yulenth said to both guards, “isn’t it interesting that Lord Stavolebe just happened to be there when Lord Argotine was killed. Tell me, were they in competition with each other for political power here in Rogar Li?”

  “Many of the people have deduced this already,” the sullen guard said. “We need only for our Queen to prove her innocence, and tell us of her reasons for fleeing the capitol. Then, the people of the Weald will rise up with her.”

  The guards shared an embarrassed look, then said nothing else the long ascent to the trial chamber.

  The chamber of the Great Judge of the Weald was a long, wooden hall, with a high ceiling. The whole room gently swayed with the stronger winds that blew through the trees. There was room along the sides of the hall for galleries of citizens to watch proceedings, and they were packed to capacity.

  The High Judge Summeninquis sat at a high bench flanked by three judges on each side.

  “There’s that miserable judge who came to us from beyond the Far Grasslands,” Yulenth grumbled. “I can’t believe he’s still in power. What right does he have to pass judgment on the people of the Weald? And who
are all these new judges? Why they look as though they could be his family!”

  “Quiet,” one of the guards whispered. “Those are his family. All from his far away homeland, and all now important judges.”

  “How do the people of the Weald stand for this!?” Yulenth angrily muttered.

  “Not very well,” Alrhett said with satisfaction, surveying the galleries of citizens who waved and smiled at her with desperate affection.

  “They still can pass the death warrant upon you,” the other guard whispered. “Be very, very careful.”

  “Court is in session!” A bailiff cried, and the crush of spectators silenced.

  “You stand accused of the foul murder of Lord Argotine, abandoning your throne for nefarious purposes, conspiring to kill all the Lords of the Courts, and thereby destroying the whole government, peace and life of the people of the Weald, Alrhett, former Queen,” Judge Summeninquis intoned with a weighty, deep voice. “How do you plead?”

  Alrhett rose to her feet and looked the judge square in the eye.

  “I am not guilty,” she said with regal dignity. The citizens in attendance nearly broke into applause, but Judge Summeninquis banged his gavel.

  “Silence,” he said. “Yulenth, former ambassador of Glaf, and still a Glaf citizen, and so not bound by Weald law, there are no charges against you. If you will testify against Alrhett and reveal her guilt, you may go free this very instant.”

  Yulenth cleared his throat. “I suppose,” he said, “you’d best keep me in jail, since I can tell you, with the honesty of a man of Glaf, and you know we are honor bound to tell the truth no matter how unpleasant, that this woman before you is innocent.” The crush of spectators exclaimed so strongly that the judge quickly called for the trial to be postponed until the next day.

  “Your honor!” Alrhett cried. “I ask that I be allowed to move about Rogar Li without restriction since I will not leave the city, so eager am I to prove my innocence.’

  “Yes, yes,” Summeninquis said as he, and the other judges made a hasty exit from the courtroom, with the whole gallery about to explode.

  “Alrhett! Alrhett!” The people cheered and carried her and Yulenth out of the courtroom. Alrhett begged the crowd to set her down.

  “Let us go about our everyday lives,” she said to the throng. “We are earnest to tell Our whole story, and for you to hear it. But, let there be no commotion, nor unrest. The people of the Weald have always prided themselves upon their intelligence and learning, so let us not behave as animals, even in troubled times.”

  With that, the potentially unruly mob dispersed with glad slaps on the back for their returned queen, and angry glances in the direction of the Great Judge’s court.

  The guards who had escorted Alrhett and Yulenth to the trial hall were also assigned to protect them, and keep them within the city limits.

  Alrhett was allowed to return to her royal palace with Yulenth. It was dusty and unkempt. Much of the furniture and art objects had gone missing. But, it still had a bed and some chairs and tables.

  “Seems rather expansive” Yulenth said, “specially empty like this.”

  “I’d trade it all for my own bed with you in Bittel,” Alrhett said hugging Yulenth tight. “Listen,” she said gazing deep into his eyes, “if anything happens to me, flee for your life. They will not spare you for a moment without my protection.”

  “Hmmph,” Yulenth said holding her tighter. “They’ll have to get through me first, so there’s no worry about that.” And then he kissed her. “And besides, you got those two to look after you,” Yulenth motioned to the two guards, who loyally stayed close to their every footstep. “I think they could fend off a pack of crazed doderns.”

  “What are your names?” Alrhett asked the tall, youthful guards.

  “I am Matclew, and this is my brother, Drepaw,” Matclew said with a deep bow, his dark brown hair flopping forward.

  “Brothers,” Yulenth said with musing approval.

  “Our home is your home,” Alrhett said to them. “Matclew,” she said, “go out and invite as many who will come, to eat their dinners here. We have nothing to offer. But We would like to tell the people of Our journeys, if they wish to hear of them.”

  “Yes, My Queen,” Matclew said with another bow, and quickly left to spread the invitation.

  Right away, the citizens of the Weald began to arrive at the royal palace with arms loaded with bread, fish, cured meats, nuts, fresh vegetables and pots of stew.

  Alrhett respectfully took a small bit of every dish or food offered her, while Yulenth sat, happy in a corner, gorging himself on the continually growing pile of food brought to him. Alrhett stood to address the crowded room.

  “My dear fellow wealdkin,” Alrhett began, “I have so missed you and my home.”

  Yulenth was not astonished to see how easily her mantle of authority fell once again onto her shoulders. She seemed to grow an inch, stand straighter, and gave an air of security and strength that he had not seen in over a decade.

  An elderly man in tattered clothes shuffled in with the crowd. He seemed nervous and quietly agitated. His eyes were restless and always downcast. Matclew and Drepaw watched him carefully. Assassinations were all too common among the political vipers of Rogar Li.

  “I must start,” she continued, “with the terrible civil war of the Weald, which as you know, lasted ten years, took half our population, and strained forever our relations with the wealdkin of the Eaststand. Many of you were children, or too young to fight, but I’m certain you remember the terror and destruction. The civil war ended with a peace agreement between aged Ergester, the High Lord of the Eaststand and my husband, Bosruss, who, you were all told, lasted long enough to sign the peace agreement, before he succumbed to the injuries he sustained in the war. This was not true. My husband, your king was murdered and his signature forged.”

  A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. Alrhett waited for this to sink in.

  “I do not suppose he was assassinated,” she went on, “for I was there when Ergester and his foul killers took my husband's life. He insisted on my daughter’s hand in marriage to consolidate his power. As you know she was barely nineteen years of age, against his more than eighty. I had to flee my friends. I had no choice. I found a small, hidden village in the Eastern Meadowlands. We have lived there in safe, happy seclusion for over sixteen years with my second husband, Yulenth.”

  The elderly, tattered man, who still had a powerful frame, stood, tears streaming down his face. Matclew and Drepaw tensed ready to tackle him if he leapt forward. “I was one of the murderers who took your husband’s life,” he said. “My soul has been in torment ever since. I am glad to have life, only for this moment, to confirm your words, Great Queen.” With that, he stepped to a window, and threw himself out to his death, on the forest floor far below.

  The shock of the wealdkin was replaced only a moment later by chattering and gossip.

  “What of your daughter Wynnfrith?” A lord with an angry, red face asked, trying to quiet the murmuring throng.

  “She married a sober, young man in my hidden village,” Alrhett answered. “They have a boy, fifteen years of age.”

  Another shocked murmur ran through the crowd.

  “An heir! An heir to the throne!” The crush of people muttered to each other in happy astonishment.

  “But,” Alrhett held up her hand, “he is lost somewhere, possibly here in the Weald. He seeks a young woman stolen by the garonds.”

  “We must find the heir! Find him!” A cry went up.

  A gangly young man stood, and the crowd quieted in respect.

  “I will use all the resources of the Messenger Guild to find him,” he said.

  “I humbly thank you and the Guild, Hermergh,” Alrhett said.

  The crush of people took turns thanking and greeting their Queen, then hurried out to spread the word.

  Yulenth shook his head. His wife was so powerful, yet she was no tyrant, nor a despot.
He loved her all the more.

  The room refilled with another crowd, and Alrhett told her story all over. She did this four more times until guards from the High Court forbade her speaking anymore to the citizens of the Weald. But, the damage to the politics of the High Court was already done. Alrhett had spoken to her people, and the suicide of the assassin sealed her words as truth.

  Matclew and Drepaw cleared the last well-wishers and bowing lords, and then positioned themselves at the only two entrances to the royal palace. That night Alrhett and Yulenth slept soundly for the first time in many nights.

  The next morning, Alrhett and Yulenth woke to a great alarm. The city was abuzz with the news of a garond army massing on the south bank of the Bairn River. They were attempting to take the Three Bridges of Rogar Li. Every citizen was given arms and rushed out to defend the ancient bridges.

  Yulenth readied himself to go, as well.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Alrhett asked.

  “If they take the bridges, your trial and all of Rogar Li will be irrelevant,” Yulenth said with a huff.

  “Then I will come with you,” Alrhett said.

  “You are not to leave the city,” Yulenth said, looking over at her nervously shifting guards.

  “If I do not go out,” she said loudly for the benefit of Matclew and Drepaw, “with the wealdkin, to fight for the Three Bridges, then I most assuredly will be abandoning my city.”

  Matclew smiled at her logic, and the four of them rushed out and down, with the host of fearful citizens who were emptying the city, down to meet the garond army at the Three Bridges of Rogar Li on the southern side of the Bairn River.

  Hundreds of humans from the capitol of the Weald rushed down through the towering trees to the open place where the River Bairn boiled in rapid turmoil. The sight was frightening.

  Thousands of garonds swarmed on the south bank, bristling with spears and swords, black clad and bellowing war cries, their human slaves bringing weapons and supplies to the front lines. The late afternoon sun beat down on the vicious struggle playing out on all three bridges.

  The Three Bridges of Rogar Li were old, erected in a bygone age when men had more skill and knowledge. They gracefully arced over the white, angry water and were covered in ornate, swirling designs, of gods and animals at play. The bridges were wide. Ten men could easily walk abreast, and this made holding even just one bridge vital.